Woodworking Woes
by Inks Inc
Summary: Gibbs had always intended to teach Tony a thing or two about carpentry, but not like this. Sometimes though, a man's just gotta do what a man's gotta do. WARNING: Spanking. Gibbs/Tony - Father/Son. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Looking dubiously yet sullenly at the littered workbench, Tony arched a brow.

"You can't be serious, Boss. This is not the nineteen fifties…not anymore."

Silently shifting the selected assortment of tools into strategic piles of beginning, middle and end, Gibbs didn't reply right away. When everything was just so-so, he straightened up with his arms folding across his chest and levelled his second in command with a firm, but calm glare. "Tony. This is going to happen, one way or the other. It can either happen with you possessing the ability to sit or it can happen with you possessing the inability to sit. The choice is yours but the outcome will be the same. You need some time to cool off, lose the attitude and really think about what you did. I can tell you think that you don't deserve to be punished, but you do. So, here's an opportunity to have a little quiet time that's productive to boot. You're going to make this paddle and then _after_ we discuss your behaviour in detail, I'm going to use it to tan your behind from here to Montreal. That's the end of the matter. Now, are we clear?"

Tony's eyes flashed with indignant anger in response.

"This is so fucking unfair."

The headslap was swift and it was severe. Speaking just loudly enough to be heard over the strangled squawk of pain, Gibbs took a dangerously close step towards his protégé. "If you ever use that sort of language towards me again, this little woodworking project is going to seem like the most thoughtful Christmas present you've ever received. Is that understood?" Grimacing both from the pain in his skull and the instant regret he felt about losing his cool, Tony nodded with the first trace of remorse he had shown all evening. "Yes Boss. Won't happen again." Swapping repentance for plaintiveness in a heartbeat, he didn't stop there. "But this _is_ unfair. I didn't do anything wrong. I really didn't. I don't understand why you're so angry and trust me; I'm pretty much the authority on what makes you angry. I saved the case. You know I did. I know you didn't authorise an undercover operation, but what I did barely even qualifies as one. I just used my initative, like you taught me. I saw an opening and I took it and if I hadn't, we never would have got that confession and the case would have been thrown out tomorrow morning. You know it and I know it."

Gibbs shook his head, his exasperation levels rising like a melting reactor.

"Tony. I am not talking about this now. You are going to do what I've shown you to do and then we are going to talk about it. Now, do you have any questions about how to make it? You know which tools you're using and for what?" Staring with wide and angry eyes, Tony shook his head. "You already have a damned paddle; you've used it on me enough times so why do I have to make one? This is so stupid." Pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, Gibbs sighed. "I asked you if you had any questions about what you're doing, and that's all I want to hear from you right now. If you don't, then you get to work and I'll be down in about an hour to check on how you're doing. If you do, then ask me now so I can show you again. I am going to be far from impressed if you cut yourself because you're using a tool you're unsure of and were too pigheaded to ask me." He tilted his head to the side with a meaningful stare. "So, do you? Have any questions?"

Tony glared mutinously.

"Yeah, I got one. Do you derive actual pleasure from torturing me?"

The second headslap was just as swift and just as severe. "Get to work and get to work _now,"_ Gibbs growled. "I want to see progress when I come back down here and the consequences won't be pretty if I don't." He picked up the large chunk of heavy wood and pressed it carefully into Tony's hands. "Make your markings like I showed you and take care with the measurements. I want this paddle large enough to roast your butt but not so big so as to actually hurt you. Is that clear?" Fair eyebrows ascended with such speed that it almost stirred motion sickness in Gibbs as Tony spluttered in confused indignation. "What do you mean, not so big so as to _actually_ hurt me? News flash Gibbs, I've been _actually_ hurt every single time you've taken the damned paddle that you _already_ have to my ass."

Shaking his head in tired anger, Gibbs knew he had to walk away. For both their sakes.

"Just do as you're told, Tony. For once, just do as you're damned well told." His mutterings were in parting instruction. Striding to the steps, he took them two at a time until he closed the door on the basement with such relief he felt almost guilty. Crossing to the fridge, he resisted the ice cold beer with more effort than it had taken in a long time. Instead, he pulled out some eggs and set about throwing together one of those damned omelettes Tony liked for dinner. Be in more trouble than he could quantify he may be, he still had to feed the kid. He worked in silence for several minutes, his head whirring. He expected to feel self doubt creep up on him, as it often did, about how he was dealing with Tony and his latest escapade. But it didn't come. It wasn't a frequent occurrence that he took a leaf out of his father's book when it came to disciplining one of his troops, but this was an exception. He remembered with uncomfortable sharpness the lesson _he_ had learned from being forced to make the very paddle he would be punished with. It had been horrendous, but very effective.

His lips twitched slightly in remembering how uncannily similar his reaction had been to Tony's.

Though, to the kid's credit, he had taken the easier option of retaining his ability to sit _before_ the paddle was made. Throwing the egg mixture into the pan on a low heat, he pottered around the kitchen for a while, before setting the table and dishing up dinner. Cooking wasn't his forte and the sorry plate reflected that, but it was edible. It had been just half an hour, but Tony should have had his markings done or nearly done, so he decided to check in a little early. Jogging down the steps in his patented red Corps hoodie and jeans he blinked in confusion when he arrived into an apparently empty basement. The wood block to be worked with was completely unmarked and lay unaltered on the workbench. Gibbs swallowed and rationalised that there were no operational windows in his basement and Tony wasn't quite as rebellious to smash his way out. Looking around the room more carefully, he felt a tongue of anger lick his gut as he spied his truculent looking second in command, sitting slumped in a corner, resolutely playing a game on his cell. Looking up at Gibbs with a very uncharacteristic rebelliousness, he shook his head with pursed lips.

"I'm not doing it, Boss. I don't care what you do to me, I was _right_ and I am _not_ doing it."

…..

A/N: Random Two/Three-Shot.

…..


	2. Chapter 2

When his brain finally caught up with his ears, it took all of Gibbs' self restraint to refrain from categorically losing his mind. Instead, he stared silently at his mutinous second in command and thought rapidly. Snapping to a decision, he knew it would be a longer than anticipated lesson, but it sure beat descending into a battle of wills with someone he knew was just as stubborn as him. "Ok," he said casually, "If that's how you feel, that's fine." He threw a hand to the upstairs level. "You want some dinner? I tried to make that egg thing you like. Don't know how good it'll be though, looks a little on the runny side." The look of complete and intense befuddlement that stared back at him was nearly worth the mounting frustration hidden behind the careful veneer of experience. But not quite, and he had to work hard to swallow down his boiling anger and disappointment.

"Boss?"

Gibbs cocked his head, reading the unasked question easily. "You don't think you deserve to be punished and you're refusing to do as I tell you. So what can I do? If you don't agree that you did something wrong and if you don't think you could learn something from the lesson I'm trying to teach you, my tanning your butt would be pointless. If you don't think you deserve to be punished then I wouldn't actually be teaching you, I'd just be hitting you and I tell you now, Tony, I'm not prepared to do that. So we're at an impasse. I think one thing and you think another. Let's just let it go and eat. You can go home after or you can rack here, it's up to you." He smiled gently then, setting Tony's teeth on edge and turned on his heel, climbed the stairs and disappeared into the upper level of the creaking house. The younger Agent's voice whispered through the dusty basement, spoken to no one in particular in his wake.

 _What the hell…._

Gibbs was whistling cheerfully when he managed to drag himself, still in a state of shock, to the dinner table. Glancing down at the brave attempt at an omelette in front of him, the confusion he was battling threatened to engulf him. Gibbs glanced at him as he took his own seat and arched a brow. "What? You want sauce or something?" Looking between the runny eggs and the boss whom he was quite sure had been possessed by overly kind spirits, Tony let his mouth fall open. "Is this some sort of psychological torture?" he blurted out, "You learn this crap in the Marines or something?" Gibbs tilted his head. "Don't use the word crap in the same sentence as Marines," he reprimanded with a terrifying gentleness, "All I asked was if you wanted something else with your dinner. Is that so bad?"

Tony was beginning to feel mildly sick.

"An hour ago you were forcing me to hand craft you a plank of wood to blister my butt with and now you're concerned that my dinner is lacking in essential condiments? What the hell am I supposed to do with that? You're freaking me out, Boss, and it's not funny." He glared over his untouched meal. "What are you doing? There's no way you're just letting this go. You're up to something. I know you are." Gibbs looked mildly offended as he picked up his own fork and began eating. "Have I ever once forced you, I mean physically forced you, to accept a punishment from me?" He swallowed. "Because I sure don't remember doing anything like that. You don't agree that you've done anything wrong and what you did isn't something I have the right to deal with officially. So, yeah, I'm letting it go." He looked over at Tony's still untouched plate. "You want something else? I have steak."

Tony mouthed wordlessly at the man, shock gripping him in her icy hands.

Gibbs shrugged then, turning towards his own dinner and eating silently. Confusion gurgled furiously inside Tony as a terrifyingly new experience unfolded around him. This had never happened before. He had never obstinately refused to concede his deservedness of correction and Gibbs had certainly never been slow to enforce his own personal brand of justice on his incorrigible second in command. But now, all of a sudden, he was all about warm and fuzzy democracy? It made no sense. He glanced over at the older man surreptitiously every couple of seconds; but he seemed supremely at ease and not at all in the midst of the mental breakdown Tony was beginning to suspect.

Gibbs had scraped his plate clean and his protégé had still not eaten a bite.

Clearing the table and quietly telling the younger man there was left over takeout in the fridge if he got hungry later, Gibbs readied himself to work down in the basement for a while. Just as he was about to disappear down the steps once more, Tony's confused voice stopped him in his tracks. "Boss. You've had your laugh, ok? Stop it. Stop being so…weird. You don't _let things go._ That's not you." He stood from the table and crossed the room to land in front of his calmly quiet boss. "C'mon man, stop freaking me out. What are you planning? What are you really going to do?" He baulked. "Are you planning on shaving my head when I'm asleep? Boss, if you shave my head when I'm asleep I swear to God I will never speak to you again. I've just gotten it to flop to the side the way I like and it took two years to make that flop happen."

The gentle smile that crossed the elder Agent's face was a terrifying sight.

The warm hand that rested softly on his right shoulder was no less disconcerting. "Tony. Let it go, ok? I told you, you think one thing and I think another. You believe you did the right thing and I believe you did the wrong thing. But you didn't break any Agency rules. You broke my rules and my rules aren't actionable when broken unless you agree that you are in the wrong. You don't think you're in the wrong, you don't think you deserve to face the consequences I was setting for you and you don't think that I'm being reasonable in how I view it all. So, what am I to do with that but let it go? You are a grown man; I can't and won't force my will on you. You are quite capable of looking at yourself and I mean _really_ looking at yourself and knowing in your gut whether you're right or you're wrong. You've looked at yourself and decided that you were right and I have to respect that." He squeezed the shoulder under his hand and the final words he spoke before bouncing down to the basement had Tony's heart suddenly sinking low into his intestines.

"But I sure would take you being alive and wrong over you being dead and right any day."

…..

A/N: As usual, I have no control over myself and this is going to be longer than I had intended.

…..


	3. Chapter 3

Looking up as Gibbs strolled into the bullpen at a pretty leisurely gait according to his standards, Tony's eyes narrowed in search of answers. But apart from the usual barrage of case related questions, there was nothing to suggest in his Boss' demeanour that the odd turn of events that had been occasioned just last night had even occurred. He suppressed a sigh. He hadn't slept last night, choosing to go back to his own apartment in lieu of engaging in the weird twilight zone that was Gibbs' place any longer. But he'd tossed and he'd turned all night. Why was the Boss doing this? He'd never once in the history of their often tumultuous relationship done anything even resembling this. When Gibbs laid down the law, _he laid down the law._ And no man or beast could change that credence. But all of a sudden, he was all about the most liberal democracy imaginable. Tony watched as he settled behind his desk, half expecting him to leap up and join the nearest branch of Greenpeace.

Gibbs subtly watched Tony subtly watching him and had to supress his own sigh.

This was a long and winding manner of teaching a lesson and he was irritated as all hell that it was dragging out like this. The whole issue could have been resolved last night in its entirety and now it was the biggest, most obnoxious elephant in the room. After Tony had left last night, he'd been seized with doubt about his impromptu reverse psychology tactic. What if the kid just went on his merry way and the issue went unaddressed? That would put him in danger in the weeks and months to come and his gut churned at the thought that he could have prevented it had he acted like he always did. Unyieldingly. But then again, Tony was different too. He wheedled, protested, moaned and groaned but he _never_ flat out refused. The rebellious streak that had sparked in him last night, was new. And although it was new Gibbs' gut had told him that to force the issue with the kid in that kind of mindset would have disastrous consequences.

And so, they were where they were.

In limbo.

All thoughts of their predicament were suddenly removed as Tim and Ziva arrived into the bullpen, each with a separate lead to offer and dissect. Soon, all thoughts of last night's peculiarities were removed from both Gibbs' and Tony's mind as they worked the case with gusto. It was the break they had been waiting for and desperately needed. Nine hours of hard work and the frustrations of inter-agency cooperation later, and they had their man. All were glad to see the back of this case, but none more so than Tony. It was this case that had landed him in the hot-turned-cold seat and he wanted closure on the whole ordeal. That being true, he still maintained and believed he was right in his actions. In a small lull in the takedown, he and McGee had been staking out a local coffee shop alone as Ziva and Gibbs took an equally likely bar across the street. The silence had allowed Tony's mind to wander and he realised he wanted an objective view point.

But he hadn't like what that viewpoint had to say.

Without telling McGee anything about what had happened at their Boss' place, allowing him to assume he'd been punished, he casually probed for the kid's take on what he'd done in the name of the case. Usually a kind and thoughtful guy who considered his words carefully, Tim hadn't held back. In vivid detail, he'd told his SFA exactly how it had felt watching him rush, against his much better judgement, into that barn after a perp who was potentially packing explosives without double checking that he had an exit route if things had gone south. In the face of the fact that they had been there to observe, not to capture, in the hope of being led from the small to the big fish. But something had come over Tony in the car and all his years of cop-turned-agent training seemed to vacate from him. The fact that the perp in question was suspected of warring a campaign of terror against the nine-year-old boy they'd found in his house a day earlier, to Tim's mind, had a lot to do with it.

But he didn't mention that.

There was no need to be cruel.

"Basically, Tony, you were selfish and selfless at the same time. Selfish in that you put your life needlessly on the line, abandoned Gibbs' rules and forced me to go into that barn after you. Selfless in that…you were doing it for the case and uhm….all those involved in it," he'd finished. Before adding a quiet. "Don't be mad at the Boss for coming down on you, Tony. I can sense you're being off with him. It's his job to keep us as safe as we can be and you took that job and made it impossible by doing what you did. We can always find another way to solve and break the case, but it wouldn't be that easy to go out and find another Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo now would it?"

Tony had been spared the ignominy of answering by the case cracking wide open in that second.

But Tim's words had stayed with him. To such a degree that when he found himself alone with Ziva in evidence processing, he was compelled to casually ask her take on it, carefully concealed in a wise-ass joke. He should have known her view the minute she pursed her lips, thrust her evidence bag down and placed her hands angrily on her hips. "You are seriously asking me if what you did was ok?" she growled, in that accent of hers that made everything she said sound wonderful. "You behaved like a baboon, no? Like a monkey? Like one that really wanted a banana, even though that banana could have been laced with poison and that monkey knew better." Dropping the monkey metaphor at Tony's hurt face, she sighed and dropped her hands away from her hips. "Tony…you knew better. You always do these things. I know because I too, always do these things. Because we are both stupid. But you should have seen the look on Gibbs' face when McGee's frantic radio call came through. Regardless of the case, Tony…you should never put that look on that man's face. He is too old and he had been through too much. Where something is unavoidable, it is unavoidable. But you chose to take the avoidable and turn it into the unavoidable and you are lucky to stand where you stand, so too is Tim. He would have followed you anywhere and you know it. You are not just you out there, you are him too. You are all of us."

With that, she had scooped up her evidence with a small, sad smile and left him to his own thoughts.

Tony watched her go with the beginnings of uncertainty creeping into his gut.

That had been three hours ago and now he was home. Staring at the ceiling in his comfortable apartment, a mouth-watering pizza on his lap and his favourite Bond film on the set. But he wasn't eating and he wasn't watching. He was just…staring. Could they be right? Could he have been selfish? No. He'd done what he was trained and paid to do. Everything he could to bring the scum of the world to justice, when and where it was possible. Was there a risk to following that cretin into the barn? Sure. But there was risks with every conceivable aspect of their job. It was a dangerous occupation and had it been Gibbs who had tan into that barn after that perp, no questions would have been asked. It would have been just a case of Gibbs being Gibbs and that would have been that. So why was it different for him? Why was he any less correct, any less right? He stared moodily upwards as his Boss' words came back to float across his brain, no matter how hard he tried to rid himself of that.

 _I sure would take you being alive and wrong over you being dead and right any day…._

The sighs he had been repressing all day gushed out of him in a long stream of air.

He tried to ignore it, tried to morph into something different, but he couldn't. Guilt was an inflexible emotion and it wouldn't be disfigured by want. Had he placed McGee in danger? Had he been reckless with the Probie's life? Truth was, he hadn't even considered it. He hadn't given a second thought to what Tim would do or think when he suddenly sprang from their car. Because frankly, he didn't care. His mind was on a one-track course and that course didn't include things like other people's safety or feelings. Pushing a hand through his now limp hair, Tony worried his bottom lip as Ziva's reflections on Gibbs' reaction lingered in his mind.

Had he really caused that much carnage from one act of spontaneity?

The theme tune signalling the end of his movie rang out in the apartment and he blinked in confusion. The pizza was now stone cold on his lap. He'd been immobile, immersed in thought for two hours when it felt like two minutes. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He worried his bottom lip some more. It wasn't late but it wasn't early. He stared back up at the ceiling and realised that he was beginning to go stir crazy. What he had thought and felt this morning, isn't what he thought and felt tonight. Because he had only been thinking about himself this morning, not anybody else. The long-standing admonishment of _never screw over your partner_ seemed to burn into his skin as he lay restlessly. Finally, knowing that he would never sleep a moment sleep, he slipped his legs over the sofa and rose stiffly.

Twenty-three minutes later and he was in a different home, but one as familiar as his one.

Calling out, he received no answer. The basement was in darkness. Gibbs wasn't at home. Hovering indecisively for a moment, Tony considered bolting from the house and back to the safety of his own apartment. But that was the coward's way out and although he had imbued a lot more faults than he thought he had, he knew at least that he was no coward. Squaring his shoulders, he flicked on the basement light and descended the stairs two at time. Everything was as it was. The woodworking station that had been set up under was illuminated in the bright light and hadn't been touched. Looking at the large plank of thick wood, Tony began to feel mildly sick and the option of bolting had to be pushed down once more. Slipping out of his jacket he rolled up his sleeves and eyed the station apprehensively.

Before stiffening his jaw and just getting the hell on with it.

He was good with his hands, always had been and he had an eye for detail that Gibbs had picked up on a long time ago. What would have taken someone else maybe five or six hours only took him one and a half. The paddle morphed into being under his careful hands, as he tried desperately to pretend that he wasn't making it for his own correction. Running the near finished product under a steady sanding hand, he took great care in removing any remaining splinters. He might be pain in the ass but he did _not_ need a splinter all up in there too. Soaking a rag with deep brown wood stain, he covered the medium sized paddle with it until it shone like oak under his careful hand. Setting it down, he couldn't help but feel bizarrely proud of it. Whilst at the same time wanting to hurl it straight into the nearest fire.

There was still no sign of Gibbs.

Sighing and knowing that if he were to be idle, he would just freak out, Tony spied a small drill on the corner of the work bench. Deciding to occupy himself, he carefully bored out eight medium sized holes in four neat sets of two, all down the paddle's breadth. Not that he should be thinking along those lines, but less wood meant less impact on his butt. And what he knew was about to happen was going to _hurt,_ he couldn't be blamed for wanting to mitigate that hurt just a little bit. It was human nature to control your losses where you could. Just as he finished and topped up the quick drying stain, he heard a faint noise overhead and looked up to see a pair of familiar feet emerging at the top of the stairs. Jogging down into the basement, Gibbs wasn't surprised to see Tony standing there uncertainly.

"Hey. You ok?"

The quiet voice was laden with concern, which only made to worsen the kid' guilt.

"Yeah, Boss. I'm ok."

Nodding and dumping his own jacket over the bannister, Gibbs moved forward to see what the smell of varnish was all about. Spying the really rather beautifully crafted paddle on the work bench, he felt a surge of pride within him that manifested itself in the gentle hand he placed on his SiC's shoulder. "You get it now?" he asked quietly. "Why I'm angry with you?"

Tony nodded.

"I get it, Boss. I get all of it."

Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Gibbs was suddenly distracted as he picked up the paddle and looked at Tony questioningly. The kid squirmed where he stood. "I don't remember telling you to bore holes in this? What's that about?" Knowing that in the circumstances to lie was not a good idea, Tony ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. "Look, I know I don't have the right to…but it's gonna hurt bad enough as it is. So, I just thought I'd make it a _tiny_ bit easier on myself and take a _tiny_ bit of the wood out of the equation. You know?"

Gibbs stared in astonishment for a moment, before letting out a snort of laughter that he couldn't control.

Tony stared.

"What?" he demanded, "What's funny?"

Still chuckling, Gibbs gestured to the neat set of holes and shook his head. "Tony. Holes are going to make it hurt worse. Allows air through so the paddle swings faster and has suction to it. It'll hurt a good bit more with holes, s'why I didn't make you drill any. I thought, like you, that it would hurt enough as it was." The colour drained from Tony's face as he flickered his eyes between his handmade paddle and his grinning Boss.

"I hate you."

Gibbs snorted once more, his whole body racking with amusement and shook his head.

"I didn't tell you to make em'. That's what happens when you try and get out of something you have no business trying to get out of."

Tony glared but wisely kept his peace.

"So…will we just get this over and done with?"

Running a thoughtful hand over the paddle, Gibbs considered that question thoughtfully.

"Well, there's just one problem with that, Tony."

The younger man blinked.

"Problem? I made the damned paddle and now I've gone and made it even more painful for myself. What's the problem?"

Gibbs sighed and set the wooden creation down, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"The problem is that I gave you two options. One, you could make the paddle with no fuss and we'd get it over and done with. Two, you could kick up a fuss and not make it, and you'd thereafter be making it was a sore ass."

He looked at Tony meaningfully.

"Did you go for option one or option two?"

The kid's eyes bulged at the implications, before a very crafty smirk crossed his face.

"Two, but I've already made it now so….guess that's off the table."

Gibbs shook his head, not allowing the trade-off.

"I know. That's why I'm gonna use this one here to blister your butt and _then_ you're gonna make me another one."

…

TBC: Transcript Transgressions is next in line for an update if you're following that one. Inks x

….


	4. Chapter 4

Horror bulged in the green eyes, the smirk was wiped clean of the handsome face.

"You're not serious, Boss?" Tony exploded. "C'mon man, tell me you're not serious? Look, I know I shouldn't have mouthed off or refused to do as I was told, but I've put it right now, haven't I? I've made the damned thing. Isn't that enough? Isn't that more than sufficient punishment? I don't deserve double jeopardy." He transformed his eyes from human to puppy, like some sort of self-contained zoonotic condition. In the blink of an eye, he was more of a very adoring golden retriever than he was a Very Special Agent. "Boss, I cannot handle two paddling's. I really can't. I'll pass out. I could _die."_

Gibbs held the penitent's paddle in his hand and raised a brow.

"You won't die. You might wish you would, but you won't." Setting the shining wood down on the littered workbench, he leant against it with his arms folding across his chest and stared at Tony with a quiet anger, the same anger he had barely been holding back since McGee's frantic call in the field. "Now you listen here, Tony. You do not call the shots here, I do. And until I'm old and feeble or just flat out dead, that's the way it's going to stay. You don't dictate your punishment. If you genuinely feel that something is unfair, I will listen. But I will not tolerate you disobeying me, defying me and then trying to orchestrate yourself a lesser sentence than what I had already decided, by being sneaky. It should never have taken you this long to realise why I am so angry with you."

His eyes blazed.

"And why I'm so disappointed in you."

Ignoring the sudden flinch that crossed his SFA's face, he continued with the lecture that ought to have been dispensed the night before. "When are you going to realise that you matter, Tony? Hmm? When is that going to sink in? Because I've been waiting and waiting for you to get the memo about your own worth on this team and in life, but it seems to keep getting lost. If McGee had done what you did, you would have torn him a new one before I even had the chance. Because you would have known exactly what was wrong with running in to a building you knew nothing about, alone, after a suspect that was quite happy to die in the chase. But it's ok if it's you, isn't it? Because you're dispensable. I can just force out a tear or two over your coffin and go out and get myself a brand new and shiny SFA? Is that what you think? Is it?"

His voice rose despite himself at the last scathing query and Tony dropped his head to the floor.

He opened his mouth to say…something, but Gibbs wasn't done.

"What kind of an example is that to set for Tim, huh? Putting aside your apparent suicidal tendencies just for a second, what the hell kind of message does that send him? You are his direct superior in the field. And he might want to hang you from the rafters most days, but dammnit Tony, that kid looks up to you. Looks to you as to how he should act in the field. You have more to do with the Agent he is going to turn out to be than I do. You see more than I do, you're with him more than I am. He is a direct reflection of you and you chose a teaching moment, to make all the wrong choices. What if he'd run in there after you and the whole situation blew up in your faces? What if he was killed and you survived? D'ya think that would be a nice feeling? Do you?"

A burning fire pierced the blue hue of his narrowed eyes.

"No answer? Didn't think so. I wouldn't want to think about it either. So, don't you _dare_ stand there and tell me what you do and don't deserve. You walked out of here last night without owning up to the consequences of your actions like the man I know you are. You ran away from what you did. You could have had this over and done with last night, but you chose not to. You chose to cling onto the notion that you did the right thing, the brave thing, when …you just did the _stupid_ thing." A billowing sigh suddenly pushed through Gibbs' clenched teeth as fatigue gripped him.

"You damned well knew better and you did what you did anyway. Why?"

Still staring at the floor as the scathing reprimand came to an abrupt pause rather than an end, Tony shuffled guiltily where he stood. His earlier whining and plea bargaining was embarrassing to him now. Shame flooded him as the possible harm he could have brought down upon McGee's head truly hit home. Knowing that Gibbs had very little, if any, patience remaining to him he tried his best to arrange his thoughts into some semblance of an answer. There was no point in lying, he knew that Gibbs already knew why he'd done it. He just wanted him to say it out loud. Not because he was cruel or enjoyed his discomfort, but because he knew he would never really accept it unless it came at him in his own words and voice.

"I did it because of the kid. The abused kid…I wanted justice for him."

Feeling some of the wind deflate from his angry sails, Gibbs let out a sad sigh. "Tony…I get that. I ain't mad at you for wanting vengeance for that child. I know why those cases are hard for you and I know you don't want to talk about it now, and that's ok. That's ok. But at the same time, I can't allow you to behave like this and think that it's going to wash. Sometimes it's ok to do the wrong things for the right reasons, but this wasn't one of those times. There were other ways of helping that kid, ones that didn't involve putting your life and potentially the lives of others at risk. That little boy is real important, Tony, but so are you. You need to get that through your head, preferably whilst I'm still alive, or it's eventually going to get you killed in the field. Do you understand me?"

Paling, Tony nodded.

He should have known that wasn't going to suffice.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you and answer me properly. You know better."

Dragging his head up in reluctance, Tony winced when he saw the still present disappointment in Gibbs' eyes. "I understand," he said quietly, before taking a deep breath and finally excising his head from his ass in totality. "And I'm sorry. I was an idiot and I know it. I should never have done what I did and I shouldn't have walked out of here last night without paying for it. I won't repeat that mistake again, I promise. I'll never walk out without doing the right thing again." Quietude swarmed into the room like a very placid hoard of honey bees. Gibbs stared at his SFA thoughtfully, a great deal of anger lessening its hold upon his chest. Tony remained quiet, knowing he had said all he could say. Moments trickled by before Gibbs cleared his throat.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

Closing his eyes briefly, he reached out and picked up the brand spanking new paddle once more.

"But you still need and deserve to be punished. You understand that, right?"

Paling but holding his nerve, Tony nodded and spoke softly.

"Yes, Boss. I understand."

Wishing he could take back what he had decreed about the two punishments, Gibbs closed his eyes wearily. Want it though he may, he couldn't. The one thing that was sure to send Tony sprawling off the rails was inconsistency. He'd had such a turbulent upbringing, that he had never fully experienced the stability of unyielding boundaries. He'd started to learn that under Gibbs' tutelage, but he was still far away from graduation. "This paddling is for the disobedience and defiance you showed me last night. You're going to stay here tonight and tomorrow night, we're going to deal with your carry on in the field. That involves you making a brand-new paddle, seeing as you couldn't follow the instructions with regards this one. Is that clear?"

Wishing an asteroid would suddenly crash into the dusty basement, Tony nodded in misery.

"Yes, Boss."

Knowing that it would be cruel to draw things out any longer, Gibbs reached out and with a hand on his right shoulder, guided Tony to the clean workbench at the other end of the room. "Drop the jeans and shorts and bend over that table. I promise you, by the time I'm through with you, you will _never_ behave like you did last night again. Do I make myself clear?" When it became very obvious that the asteroid was a no-show, Tony grimaced in resignation and made to fumble with his belt, muttering a quiet "crystal clear, Boss," under his breath. Looking away as the kid positioned himself as bidden, Gibbs wished he were doing anything else, anywhere else. He might pull of the no-nonsense asshole act as well as any man could, but this whole ordeal was breaking his cold, dead heart. Wasting no time, he moved to his familiar position with reluctance, placing the warm hand on the small of the back.

The first lick drew a yowl of surprised pain from its reprobate of a recipient.

It wasn't often that Gibbs put first lick to bare behind, but then again, it wasn't often that Tony engaged in such open rebellion. It was clear the kid was lamenting the loss of his pants to a deep degree as the paddle landed unerringly again. The large breadth of the shiny wood was expertly crafted and the misjudged boreholes provided a much faster, more painful swing. By the fifth lick, Tony was hissing in pain and by the tenth, he was openly hollering. Crashing the paddle down on the crimson behind for the eleventh and twelfth times, Gibbs knew that enough was enough as the torso deflated and a strangled sob rang out around the room. Biting his lip in reluctance, he brought the swift but thorough punishment to an end by applying a thick coat of red across the prone sit spots, drawing a pained, tearful whimper.

Stepping back immediately and throwing the paddle out of his hand, they were done.

He allowed Tony some time to compose himself, turning away to offer privacy. When the kid eventually righted himself and his clothing, a hiss filled the room. Turning at the tell-tale sign, Gibbs felt the usual sucker-punch to the gut at the look of crushed misery and the red rimmed eyes. Swiping away the last stray tear in embarrassment, his SFA stood stiffly, staring down at the floor. Crossing the space between them in one stride, Gibbs reached out and lifted his head gently upwards with his thumb.

"You took that better than I did."

Confusion spurted across the tear tracked face as he was pulled in for the customary post-punishment hug. Upon release, he reached back to rub the terrible throbbing sting from his behind, only to drop his hands away sheepishly at Gibbs' fond, but warning, stare. "What do you mean I took it better than you did?" Tony asked, his voice crackly. "I don't get it?" Smiling somewhat, Gibbs turned around and placed the paddle out of eye view and began pushing and prodding the kid upstairs for something to eat and drink. "You don't need to get it," he laughed. "Now, what d'ya want to eat? I take it you've not ingested a thing tonight?"

Tony was never in a million years going to be dissuaded that easily.

Stopping short in the middle of the stairs with a wince, he shook his head.

"Boss, what did you mean by that?"

Sighing and realising his faux pas, Gibbs blushed and ducked his head down to the ground.

"When I refused to make my paddle, and my dad tore me up, I sobbed like an absolute baby."

Chuckling at the look of supreme and unfettered shock that screamed across Tony's face, he ducked around him and darted from the room. Blinking for a moment, alone, the younger man's eyes suddenly filled with mirth as he hollered up the stairs, making Gibbs rue the day he was born.

"Wait till I tell everyone that you cried like a little baby when your _daddy_ spanked you!"

…

TBC

….


	5. Chapter 5

Tony poked at his lunch listlessly. Occasionally, he would give a little squirm on the hard-wooden dining chair, but other than that he was stationary and he was silent. Watching him subtly over the top of his newspaper, Gibbs was also silent. Eventually however, the kid's morose expression and complete lack of an appetite got to him. Resolving to have a word with himself about his "going-soft" penchant, he spoke quietly into the silence.

"Just leave it, Tony. If you're not hungry, go on and just leave it. You don't have to eat it."

Startled, the young man looked up from his daze and nodded, placing his fork quietly on his plate and sinking back into motionless silence. Gibbs sighed and folded the paper, popping it beside his empty plate and raised a brow.

"Come on then. What is it? What's up with you?"

The incredulous look that was sent his way would have crooked the corners of his mouth up on a normal occasion, but Tony's obvious misery put paid to that. Scratching his chin thoughtfully, Gibbs chose his words with care.

"You're working yourself up about tonight?"

A short nod of the sandy brown head was all that was offered, before Tony realised it wasn't going to fly on its own.

"Kinda hard not to, Boss. I can barely sit as it is and I know it's only going to get worse, plus I have to go down and make a new paddle now, right? Not exactly the most thrilling way to spend a Saturday."

Opening his mouth to say something along the lines of _tough luck and you bet your ass you do,_ Gibbs bit his lip and frowned in contemplation. A sudden prickle of self-doubt crept into his gut. Was he being too hard on the kid? Could he cut him some slack? He sighed. The trouble with Tony was, cutting him any slack was always interpreted as a loss of interest or diminishing degree of effort. He was still decided on tanning his butt later that evening, but was there really a necessity in making him forge a new paddle to do it with? He chewed his lip some more and stared down at the table. Tony's misery was making him miserable, not that he'd ever admit it. The younger Agent had been fine all morning as they'd pottered in the garden, making the most of the fine weather to get the foliage back under control, working between compatible chatter and silence. But as the day wore on and the imminent appointment in the basement loomed larger, the happy-go-lucky chatter subsided and a pensive, almost moody expression took up residence on the kid's face.

Gibbs exhaled slowly, plucking his words from the air with unusual care.

"What do you think?"

Tony looked up once more, startled, it having taken so long for Gibbs to answer.

"What do I think about what?"

Gibbs tilted his head.

"About whether you are going to or should have to make a new paddle?"

He eyed the kid carefully.

"Do you think that's fair?"

An expression of supreme shock splintered across Tony's face and it occurred to Gibbs, with a not-so-small stab of guilt, that he'd never asked any of the four that question before. He always assumed they thought whatever punishment he meted out fair, even if grudgingly so. He waited quietly for the question to work its way through Tony's brain, the shock fading from his face the longer he mulled it over. Fiddling with his water glass, his SFA eventually gave a half shrug and plastered on that frat-boy smile that drove the elder man nuts.

"Since when are you running a democracy, Boss?"

Gibbs glared.

"Don't get fresh. I'm asking you a serious question. Do you think it's fair, or don't you?"

"I think it sucks."

Gibbs couldn't supress a half-smile.

"No doubt," he murmured dryly, "But I didn't ask you if it sucked, I asked you if it was fair?"

Tony's brow knitted together as he put serious weight to thinking the question through. Was he out of line, at the scene and every step of the way thereafter? Yes. Did he feel like he'd been adequately punished for that and for mouthing off to the Boss? No, not really. Did he feel like going back down into the basement to labour over a plank of wood that was going to reignite the still smouldering fire in his ass? No, not really. He sighed, running a distracted hand through his hair. He worried his bottom lip, thinking hard. As much as he wanted to open his mouth and say no, it wasn't fair, he couldn't quite make himself do it. He couldn't lie. Not now.

"It's not unfair, Boss. I knew what the fallout would be when I did what I did and when I spoke to you like I did. I did it anyway and that's on me." He smiled wryly. "Don't do the crime and all that, I guess."

Gibbs chewed over that sentiment slowly and silently.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that's what you really think and you're not just telling me what you think I want to hear."

Tony groaned.

"Boss, c'mon man, I-"

"Look me in the eye, Tony."

Grumbling furiously under his breath, the younger man threw his eyes up to heaven dangerously, before levelling green on blue and gritting his teeth.

"I don't think it's unfair. I screwed up and I know that I deserve it. Ok?"

One look at the serious face and Gibbs knew he was telling the truth.

"Ok. Then you don't have to make a new paddle. We'll use the one you've already made."

The kid's eyes bulged from their sockets as he ran back through the words he'd just uttered. Confusion splattered across his face as he mouthed wordlessly at the older man who quirked a brow before offering an explanation.

"Getting you to make the second paddle was about you owning up to what you did and forcing you to realise that actions have consequences. If you already know that, which I think you do, then there's no need to waste your time and good wood. The one you've already made will do fine." He gave a small, crooked smile. "I know I was pretty hard on you last night, I don't see the need to torture you if you already get it. This ain't me being disinterested or anything else that's going through your brain by the way. This is just me giving you a break when you prove to me that you deserve one. Like now."

Tony gawped.

"You're…. you're giving _me_ a _break?"_

Gibbs couldn't help but chuckle.

"One-time offer. Enjoy it, it'll never happen again. Deal?"

A big, relieved grin spread across Tony's face as he nodded happily.

"Deal, Boss."

Rolling his eyes at the massive uptake in mood and hiding a smile, Gibbs got up and began to clear the table, Tony getting stiffly to his feet to help. They worked in companionable silence for a while and the kitchen was soon glimmering. Putting the last glass in the cupboard, a wicked smile suddenly appeared across Tony's face. "So, are you gonna tell me why Jackson made you cry like a girl watching Marley&Me for the first time?"

Gibbs frowned.

"Marley&Me?"

Tony flinched.

"Very, very sad movie. Don't watch it, Boss. It's really very, very painful."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Gibbs muttered under his breath, stalking off to the living room in search of his afternoon Western. The kind of daily ritual, when not working, that he enjoyed in peace and quiet. He should have known when Tony sat slowly opposite him, wincing, that this was not to be one of those days.

"So?" he prompted.

"So what?" Gibbs grunted.

Tony rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smirk.

"What did you do to make Jackson so mad? You made me eat so much last night I was too tired to ask."

Sighing, Gibbs focused on the TV.

"Go play outside, Tony."

Chuckling at the barb, the kid shook his head.

"Not enough traffic for what you have in mind. So, go on. I promise I won't tell anyone. Apart from McGee. And Ziva. Probably Abby. Maybe Ducky, but probably not Palmer. Actually, he's growing on me so probably him, too. But no-one other than that, you have my word."

"Gee, thanks," Gibbs muttered, before glowering heavily and issuing a deathly message.

"Drop it, Tony. First and final warning."

It was an exercise in futility and he knew it, but he still had to try. True to form, the younger Agent was not to be dissuaded.

"Did you skip school, get in a fight…sneak a girl in at three am?"

Gibbs pretended not to hear him, focussing on the black and white screen with gusto.

Tony scratched his head, deep in thought.

"Flunk a test? Crash the car? Part your hair an inch off centre?"

Despite himself, Gibbs' mouth twitched at the last guess as he rolled his eyes.

"What does it matter?"

Tony sighed. Gibbs was the only person in the world who didn't find Gibbs interesting. The man was a psychiatrist's wet dream. There were so many ins and outs to the guy's mind and behaviour that a road-map was nearly required to navigate the way. Besides, this was prime gossip they were talking about. The juiciest of juicy gossip.

"Would just humanise you is all."

Gibbs' brow took a hike as his eyes zeroed in on his favourite battle-scene.

"You saying I'm inhumane, is it?"

Tony greyed.

"Never Boss, I would never say such a thing."

Gibbs smirked.

"Yeah, right. At least not to my face."

That was an incontrovertible point and Tony freely grinned his guilt. "So," he continued, "What was it? We both know I'm never going to let this go. It's your own fault for telling me, really. Be a lot easier on both of us if you'd just reminisce for one teeny-tiny second."

Gibbs snorted.

"If you don't have anything to do, I'm sure I can rethink our previous conversation and _find_ something to entertain you."

Tony smiled coyly.

"I could just ask Jackson, I guess. Or I could get Ziva to do it, he had a real soft spot for her. I'm sure he'd go right on and spill his guts. Could even end up throwing in some unsolicited information as well, you know how people get when they're on memory lane. Those stories just keep on coming." His eyes were twinkling when Gibbs slowly moved his gaze from the TV to him, his blue eyes frosting over. "Whereas if you were to just tell me, we'd never need to bother Jackson for his many, many memories on the misadventures of the young Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

The not-so-young Leroy Jethro Gibbs let out a deep breath that dripped with exasperation.

"Jesus Christ, you're a pain in the ass," he growled, "I ever tell you that?"

Tony shrugged unrepentantly.

"Every day."

Muttering furiously under his breath, Gibbs returned his gaze to the TV and resolved to bite the bullet. Tony was like a dog with a bone when something caught his attention and he _definitely_ didn't want his father pumped for information on his less than stellar record as a kid. Especially as the old man would have absolutely zero qualms in revealing all and stripping away the sometimes-barely-there control he had on his own brood. He spoke quietly, but just loud enough to be heard over the wild hoofbeats drifting up from the ancient set.

"When I was sixteen, some local kids from my school broke up my dad's store. Smashed the windows, swiped the stock, did a real number on the place. I knew who they were. They were a year above me at school. A five-man crew of real jackasses. They tore up a lot of local businesses, but no one could ever prove it. But everyone knew it was them, small town and all that. So anyway, I was pissed. Madder than mad. My mom…well, she wasn't long gone and dad wasn't dealing all that well. So he really didn't need any more on his plate. I remember fuming and cussing as I cleaned the place up with him, threatening to go and find those guys and kick their asses."

He suddenly looked over the head of the TV set, a nostalgic look spreading across his face.

"And my dad stopped his sweeping, set the broom down and grabbed me by my shoulders. Real serious all of a sudden. Told me to mind my own business, keep away from them. They were dangerous and they came from real screwed-up homes, they'd no morals or qualms about violence. I was to let the police deal with it, that's what they were there for. He warned me he would tear me a new one if he caught wind of me going off half-cocked, playing the vigilante. Asked me for my word that I wouldn't do anything about those boys and I gave it. Reluctantly, but I gave it. A couple of weeks later and I was putting it behind me when I heard those same guys bragging about doing the store over in the bathrooms at school. Talking crap about my dad, debating the merits of going back and doing it again."

His lips quirked up at the sides.

"I lost my shit. Came out of the bathroom stall thinking I was I don't know what. Turns out, there was really only one hard-man in their little pack. The rest of them scattered when I threw the first punch at who I knew was the ringleader. Big son of a bitch. We got into it. Hard. By the time a teacher came in, he was bloody as hell and so was I. Only difference was, he had a broken nose and fractured jaw and I just had a cut eye and a damaged ego. Broken noses and fractured jaws ain't cheap things to be fixing when your parents barely know your name, let alone think about health insurance for ya. So, my dad gets called down to the school with the other guy's parents. They see a big payday and push it. Dad has no choice but to fork out for that little weasel's medical bills, plus a cherry on top. We're both then suspended for a week, thinking ourselves lucky not to be expelled."

He shook his head, his eyes ghosting over with the memories of years gone by.

"So, we get home and after I'm cleaned up and he sees I'm not really hurt, my dad lays into me. Yelling his head off. I'm there trying to explain that I was defending _his_ name and _his_ store and he goes off on an even madder one, hollering like he ain't ever hollered before. I'm getting pissed. I've just gone toe-to-toe with a monster a year older and thirty pounds heavier than me, for him, and he's reading me the riot act? I get an attitude, he gets angrier. Announces outta thin air that I need some time to cool my heels and he knows just the thing. Drags me down to the basement where we used to woodwork all the time and takes out this big plank of wood, marking it up in a couple of seconds."

He smiled wryly.

"Tells me I got one hour to turn that plank of wood into a paddle for my own ass if you please, and to think about what I'd done. I have a hissy fit. Life's unfair, etc etc. Tell him there's no way in God's green earth that I'm doing it. He's outta his mind, etc etc. His hands twitch like he's thinking about actually strangling me and he gets real quiet, that's how I knew he was madder than he ever been. Tells me that if that paddle ain't made by the time he comes back down those stairs, he'd roast my butt with his belt and I'd still have to make it and have it used on me. Of course, that sets me off altogether and I ain't proud of what I said. To his credit, my old man just shook his head at me and walked up the stairs and left me to my own devices."

A small look of embedded chagrin washed over his face.

"When he comes back downstairs, I'm no closer to producing a paddle than the tooth fairy. He doesn't say anything. Doesn't argue with me. Just moves quicker than I ever seen him move and before I know it, my ass is on fire and my attitude is fading, fast. He lets me up, gives me a hug and then tells me he'll be _back_ down in another hour and unless I want a repeat performance, there'd better be a paddle waiting for him. At this stage, the wind's pretty much gone out of my sails. I'm hurting, embarrassed and pissed off. So I make the damned thing, knowing I ain't got a choice. He comes back down like he said and whatever hurt I thought I was in then, was nothing compared to what I was in by the time he was through with me."

He shook his head, closing his eyes.

"I asked him why. After I'd finished hollering of course, and he just looked at me like I was crazy, like it was obvious. But it wasn't, to me anyways, so I asked again and I swear I ain't ever seen him look so sad. He throws the paddle to where I can't see it and grabs me into another hug and tells me that I scared him. That I coulda been seriously hurt in that fight. A fight about a building, some stock and the name-calling of kids. All things that can be replaced and forgotten. But I couldn't be replaced or forgotten. He'd already lost his wife and he couldn't handle the possibility of losing me, too. A single punch to the wrong side of the head can be life-changing and I knew that, but I did it anyway. I scared him and put the value of a building and my ego above my life and well-being and that's why I couldn't sit for a week, no other reason."

He finally turned his gaze back to a dumbfounded and gawping Tony, a small smirk playing about his lips.

"Sound like any other reckless, think-later guy to you?"

Swallowing with difficulty, the SFA's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Jackson…made you make your _own_ paddle?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes. Of course that would be the only point the kid would pick up on.

"He did."

Tony's eyes grew wider still as he considered the merits of this, his brow knitted in deep thought.

"But he seems so nice!"

It wasn't often that the rare and pure laughter from LJ Gibbs was elicited, but that definitely did it. Spluttering with mirth, he laughed all the harder at Tony's shocked face, his stomach clenching with amusement.

"You think a father punishing his son when he deserves and needs it, makes a man _not_ nice?"

Tony chewed his lip and shook his head slowly as Gibbs rose, the sudden tinkle of his doorbell breaking the odd spell that lingered over the room.

"I guess not, no."

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs made to pass the kid on his way to the door but suddenly stalled in his gait. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand found his SFA's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, earning himself a surprised glance, inspiring an emotionally constipated blush to flood his face and the back of his neck.

"Good. Because you know I'd just hate to think that you consider me _not_ nice."

….

A/N: One more chapter and done, guys! Thanks for reading! I happily took up "Fan's" advice and placed a "fluffy" chapter between the previous one and the impending one! So, thank you, Fan! Great idea.

Inks x

…..


	6. Chapter 6

Knowing that there was only so much stalling he could do, Gibbs grimaced and flicked the TV off. As the scene flickered away in Tony's eyes, they turned wide and his complexion paled. Seeing these things and wishing he hadn't, Gibbs swallowed. Hours had passed since his unplanned recollection of his own misguided youth and he could no longer ignore the elephant in the room. Wishing he could be like one of those liberal judges he despised, he longed to issue a suspended sentence. And that might be the right thing to do, for someone else, but it wasn't the right thing to do when it came to Tony. It would simply send him spiralling off the rails. They'd both learned that lesson the hard way, many years ago in their early partnership.

"Let's get this done, Tony. You'll feel better."

The incredulous snort that he received in return nearly tore a hole clean through the kid's nose.

He couldn't help but offer a half smile in return.

"You know what I mean wise guy. C'mon, up and move it."

Rousing himself and striding towards the basement, he didn't give Tony a second glance. He knew the younger man needed a minute to muster up his courage. He'd be down in a few more minutes. To be honest, he needed the small reprieve of alone time to steel himself. With reluctance so severe it coated his tongue, he bounded down the stairs and retrieved the paddle from where it rested from the night previously. It weighed heavy in his hands. Rubbing a hand along the carefully crafted and polished wood, he felt a stab of supreme guilt for forcing Tony to make it in the first place. Whilst it was the most effective lesson he could teach him and something he had experienced himself, he knew how hard it was to do. Knew what had been going through the kid's head. Sighing, he leant against the workbench that would soon bear his SIC's weight and reminded himself of the only thing that ever got him through these situations.

It was for his own good.

Sure enough, a couple of minutes was all that Tony required and the basement door soon squeaked open once more. Taking the steps slowly, the young man edged into the room as if it were on fire, and he were looking for the clearest path to where Gibbs stood patiently, armed to the teeth. The man genuinely looked more terrifying holding a paddle than he did a firearm. Swallowing noisily, Tony made his way across the short distance whilst trying to hide his fear. He wasn't afraid of Gibbs. No, far from it. His fear was a simple fear of self-preservation. The pain he knew he was going to be in was far from minor and the desire to run from it was overwhelming.

But he wouldn't.

Not again.

"Easy, Tony," Gibbs murmured as he saw the fear in the boy's eyes, biting back the bile that it elicited in his throat, "To me. C'mon now." Seemingly reassured by the controlled and calm voice, the fear dimmed somewhat in the usually bouncy eyes and his protégé landed directly in front of him, diverting his gaze away from the solid wood his boss held close. A quietude swept the room for a moment as Gibbs considered all the actions and reactions that had led them to where they were. He allowed McGee's frantic voice to fill his mind, hollering of the dangers the team's SFA was facing, alone. He allowed the images of staring at another empty desk to consume him. These were painful thoughts. They were unpleasant thoughts, but they were necessary thoughts. His ability to deal with his people required fuel, just like everything else. He couldn't teach a lesson whilst pouring from an empty cup. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as his tank reached its brim, before clearing his throat.

"Do I need to tell you why you're about to get this?"

To his credit, Tony shook his head with minimal hesitation.

"No, Boss, I know why I'm getting it. No confusion."

A glimmer of something the younger Agent couldn't recognise filled the elder man's eyes as he nodded slowly. A purposeful hand was directed first to the workbench and then to the jeans that hugged his hips.

"Well then, you know what to do."

Tony couldn't help but raise a brow, dripping with wry bemusement.

"Well, yeah Boss. This isn't exactly my first rodeo."

Gibbs rolled his eyes at that, shaking his head with an almost fond exasperation.

"Don't I know it. Go on and get on with it then. I'm not getting any younger here."

Realising that a smart comment about that ship having set sail a long time ago wouldn't do him any favours, Tony accepted the time was nigh and braced himself as best he could. Gibbs as usual looked discreetly away as he reached up to fumble with his belt buckle, before pushing his jeans and boxers down to his knees in one fluid moment. Bending over the workbench was as familiar as sitting down to dinner for him. The familiar scent of sawdust hit him hard and he breathed it in deeply. There was something soothing about it. He gripped the other side of the table firmly, turning his head away from his right-hand side. He didn't need to see the arch and fall of the belt in his peripheral vision. This was going to suck more than enough as it was.

The weight of Gibbs' hand was warm on his t-shirt clad back as he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

The kid's back was clammy as he placed his usual hand upon the small of it. With his heart somewhere in the region of his sock-clad feet, Gibbs braced himself. It would be cruel to make Tony wait for it and so he forced himself to deliver the first of many licks without any further ado. The yelp that couldn't be supressed rang out with the crack of wood-to-skin as the paddle made unfalteringly accurate contact. Gibbs wasn't holding back. He hadn't been lying when he warned Tony he was going to be taught a lesson. Falling into a rhythm that spoke of the familiarity of their positions, he brought the paddle up and down once more with force. Tony didn't yelp on the second lick. He never did. The first cry of pain was more from surprise than anything, and then he would try and remain stoic until he couldn't any more.

Under his well-practiced arm and a very well-made paddle, Tony's backside soon burst into colour.

Groaning quietly into the crook his left arm, the SFA bit his lip viciously. He hated breaking down in front of Gibbs. Hated crying out, not taking his medicine quietly and without a fuss. The Boss always reassured him that hollering was to be expected and that if he weren't, he wasn't doing his job right. But that never stopped him from trying to hold back the yelps and whimpers for as long as he could. But as the paddle of his own creation crashed across his bared backside for the…he didn't know how many times, he knew he couldn't keep it together much longer. The pain was biting and it was burning. He stayed as still as possible. To his credit, he wasn't a squirmer. But it was hard. Every reflex he possessed begged him to move, to protect his now crimson ass from the onslaught.

Just when Gibbs was beginning to panic quietly that the kid wouldn't cave and call his bluff, it happened.

The lick that caught the most tender part of his already well punished sit spots was the undoing. Tony let out a strangled whimper that broke Gibbs' heart, before slumping over the bench, his rigid poise melting away and sobbed quietly. With a few more perfunctory and barely-there swats, Gibbs set the paddle down with relief and stepped back. After a second's hesitation, he picked it back up and hastily stowed it out of eyelevel. It was the last thing the kid needed to see when he eventually righted himself. Seized with inspiration, he turned and jogged from the basement. He sprinted up the stairs to the room Tony and Tim had essentially commandeered and rifled through the stack of his SIC's clothes that littered his bed. Retrieving the softest sweat pants available, he bolted back to the basement where the kid had just about managed to pull his boxers up over his burning, aching backside.

Without a word, Gibbs held out the soft garment.

Gratitude sprung into Tony's eyes.

He turned away and allowed the clothing change, turning only when the soft hiss let him know it was done. No matter how often he'd had to do it, he could never get used to being the one to make a usually happy-go-lucky person look the way Tony currently did. Flushed face, red and watery eyes and a somewhat timid stance. He swallowed hard and racked his brains. He needed to say something…squishy, as Abby would say.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again or that will seem like a warm-up to what you'll get."

He shook his head at himself internally. He'd been going for something a _little_ gentler than that.

But it did the trick.

Tony read the caring behind the gruff statement and the timid poise melted away.

"Message received, Boss."

Gibbs nodded slowly and crooked a finger towards his SIC. Clearly anticipating a headslap to really accentuate the lesson in question, Tony moved with a marked reluctance. Landing directly in front of the elder man, he braced himself. People really underestimated how much those damned slaps hurt. One time, he'd seen Neptune float happily across his eyes. The tight hug and soft hair ruffle were therefore very welcome and very-much-needed surprises. Breaking apart, he grinned up at the elder man with a firm shadow of his usual cheeky-chappy demeanour.

"You have a very soft torso for a man so rough, Boss."

Gibbs threw his eyes up to high heaven as a ridiculous happiness spread through him.

"Where did I even get you from?"

Tony smirked, tilting his head to the side as he pretended to ponder deeply.

"God?"

…

A/N: Fin! Thanks for all the feedback guys, I hope you all enjoyed!

Inks x

….


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